Tomfoolery
by Miss Celeste
Summary: Ratchet receives an outrageous requisition from Optimus. He isn't too happy about it. Unfortunately for him, even the most refined Autobots on base can commit the worst tomfoolery. **Now extended. Prompts are welcome!**
1. April Fools (Ratchet)

**I meant to post this back in April, but I never got to finishing it in time. Whoops! I haven't seen much of our favorite medic in fics as of late. Ratchet needs some love.**

 **Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING!**

* * *

The first insight I had gotten of trouble on this day was the apprehensive steps in young Jolt's stride when he entered the Med Bay. It was an idiosyncrasy that I knew immediately meant that my medical apprentice had been burdened with something that he was regretting to drag in here with the rest of him.

In a sense, I could have predicted this. One way or another, Jolt was almost always the one out of the two of us who received the short end of the metaphorical stick on this wretched base when it came to acquiring dreadful information. Normally, it came as a hesitant passing of a datapad featuring the latest antics of the Twins –one or both sets, predictably. Or, perhaps, an exchange of quiet words informing me that Wheeljack had exploded something again, or Crosshairs had shot someone 'accidentally'.

By technicality, I wasn't even qualified to deal with any of the slag that goes on in Diego Garcia that didn't involve medical expertise. And yet, here I was, having thrown more wrenches and spewed more curses on this planet than I had in my entire lifetime I'd lived on Cybertron. I somehow formulated a mindset that human influence was what caused it all. I'd said it once and I'll say it again –humans were a primitive, troublesome race whose flaws and tomfoolery tendencies were only ever rubbing off on us –which, unfortunately, was the majority of Cybertronians on base.

The only responses I'd gotten from voicing that thought, however, was a dismissive wave from Ironhide, a very uncharacteristic chuckle from Optimus, and an agonizing lecture of why that prediction was invalid and illogical from Prowl.

"I am afraid that your evaluation of human and Cybertronian integration is soundly illogical, Ratchet," Prowl had said, "Considering that we possess Autobots whom have retained such 'tomfoolery tendencies' since even before we have stationed on Earth."

"Really?" I had said, "Was Drift always traumatized of octopuses even before our Japanese soldiers had so-explicitly explained to him what hentai was?"

"That-"

"And did Mirage always abuse his ability to cloak and scare soldiers even before his espionage unit encouraged him and told him it was okay?"

"Well-"

"How about when Blurr almost succeeded in illegally boarding an aircraft to the United States because some soldiers had convinced him that he could win the next Indy 500?"

By then, Ironhide had snorted loudly and Optimus had covered his mouth with a servo while trying to make it look like he was scratching. Ridiculous, considering that Cybertronians didn't even _itch_. The fact that he had picked that action up from Lennox only further proved the point to me. But Prowl and his logistics were a force to be reckoned with. He possessed such an unfathomable wall of a never-ending computing processor that I was sure even blunt force head trauma from Megatron couldn't knock some common sense into him.

"Those are merely examples of instances in which our human soldiers chose to abuse the naivety of some of our… more impressionable Autobots. Singular incidents –not entirely a sign of long-lasting negative influence."

"My point still stands. Those are three of our Autobots who are generally well behaved and wouldn't have done those things outside of Earth."

"I never recalled you attempting to melt a hole into Sunstreaker's head before such a despicable punishment was forwarded to you by your medical team either –Ratchet. Ratchet!"

Needless to say, that was a meeting I'd walked out of before it had even started. Morshower wasn't happy. I didn't care.

Jolt was looking at me like he was about to reveal to me that he'd found Optimus dead in his office. In short, if he was showing such an expression, it was something bad. Or, something so extensively ridiculous that he was fearing that informing me would cause him to become my personal target practice for my wrenches. That was, reprehensibly, an existing incident, where I'd gotten so furious when he'd told me Sideswipe had glued my tools to the ceiling that the datapad he'd handed me that day was very quickly shattered onto his own helm.

He still had the dent, and I still felt utterly dreadful for having caused it. But Jolt, with his mercifully forgiving and tranquil personality, had firmly stated that he was aware that taking up an internship with me would more than likely have resulted in him receiving the brunt end of my infamous rage on multiple occasions. But after that incident, I was at least 80% sure my N.E.S.T. profile had been updated with some extra notes that probably had me labeled with a shiny new record of assault and battery on other Autobots, cantankerous, and dangerously bipolar.

I never had the time or energy to even attempt to revoke any of that. If anything, it lowered the chances of soldiers –human or otherwise– from getting any more ideas about messing with me. But as I watched Jolt fiddle with this datapad and shift his weight uneasily, I legitimately began to worry.

"What is it, Jolt?" I was almost afraid to hear the answer.

"I received a… requisition form from Prime, sir."

"A requisition?" I stopped fiddling with a now insignificant medical utensil and averted my attention directly to him, "From Prime? Meaning, he's requesting I allow him use of something in here?"

"From you, sir."

"Something from me?"

"Yes, sir."

"That does not make sense. He's my superior. He doesn't _need_ permission."

"I am only the messenger, sir." It was almost as if he was reiterating that to me in poor attempt to spare himself from whatever type of enraged damage I was about to do to him. When Jolt said 'sir' this many times to me, that was a big enough hint that he was fully expecting it to happen anyways.

"If it's just a requisition, then why are you so nervous?"

Jolt didn't answer. Instead, he handed me the datapad. Now, it was exactly 11:30 at night on this side of the Earth and I hadn't had a proper recharge in the last month. I liked to pride myself in having a sharp CPU, so I blamed my lack of properly understanding this information on that. It took me at least two minutes and thirty-six seconds before I was able to fully register this Primus-forsaken requisition into my already-aching processor.

I looked at Jolt pointedly. As the human saying went, if looks could kill, my poor little apprentice would have been nothing but a puddle of blue and silver alloy at my pedes right then and there.

"I knew nothing of this report, sir," Jolt blurted out. I almost believed him, but that peculiar glint in his optics betrayed him.

"Please tell me this is a joke."

"Afraid not, sir."

"You are telling me that Optimus is requesting, from me, to host a Sexual Education session for the Autobots, with –and I quote from here– 'recommended utilization of provided human sex tapes' to help them understand human anatomy and reproduction?"

Jolt wasn't even trying to hide his smile this time. Little fragger –he was willing to sacrifice any chance he had of walking out of here unharmed in exchange to watch the downfall of my dignity that was resulting from this requisition. "That would be correct. Sir."

I scrolled through the datapad for a moment. I stared at the names of those who approved of this vile demand and physically felt my core temperature rising at the sheer number of them. I looked at Jolt, "You claimed you knew nothing about this?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hmph. I wonder why your name is put down as an advocate, then."

A pause. "Okay, I wasn't aware of the majority of this."

"Of course."

"Truly, sir. I only signed because I was told it was something completely different."

There it was again. That glint. I went over and gripped my apprentice's shoulder, "You have always been good about telling the truth, Jolt. You know what that makes you?"

"Honest, sir?"

I squeezed, "A terrible liar."

Jolt's optics were about ready to short out, they were so wide. He was expecting something attune to me ripping his shoulder plate clean off, but I only loosened my grip and patted him once on the back. His spinal struts were shaking under my touch.

I shoved the datapad back into his servos, "Tell Optimus his request is denied. I am not about to be humiliated simply because some of our idiotic Autobots can't figure out what goes where and why."

Jolt fumbled, "But, sir-"

"The answer is no."

"I understand, sir, but…"

"But what?"

"A-as you could see, this requisition form was signed and approved by more than enough advocates that Optimus could, technically speaking, veto your decline."

I paused, "I didn't bother to count the names. How many?"

Jolt looked incredibly reluctant to answer that question, but he did, "Twenty-three Autobots signed, sir. Fifty-six humans as well, including Major Lennox and entire squadrons who's Autobots assigned to them started asking them inappropriate questions."

My right optic twitched, "Twenty. Three. Autobots."

"Y-yes, sir."

"That-" I looked to the side and then whirled on Jolt, "That is _EVERY OTHER AUTOBOT_ on this planet except for me!"

Jolt was only half my height. In fact, he was the smallest Autobot on record at the moment, even more so than Bumblebee. Angry as I was, I had to secretly commend him for being able to handle me towering over him threateningly and not flinching once. I had once heard some soldiers say that his 'indestructible balls of Cybertronian steel' for being capable of dealing with me easily compensated for his small size. I didn't generally pay mind to human gossip on base, but I could agree with that, to some extent. Jolt stored more bravery in his little frame than most mechs twice his size. He could put the Wreckers to shame.

"I am aware of that, sir!" Jolt protested before I could continue the tirade I was dangerously close to letting loose, "W-which is precisely why I am telling you that forgoing this requisition may as well be useless."

"Like frag it is. Doesn't this slag count as some sort of violation of consent?"

"Not really, sir. It's an order, and you're expected to follow it."

We stood in silence for a few terse minutes until I snatched the datapad from Jolt and shoved past him, "I'm taking this to Optimus."

"Ratchet, wai-!" Jolt's voice was cut short by the whirring of my Med Bay's door. He never bothered to follow me. It didn't register to me that he'd burst out laughing behind that door, either.

I only passed two Autobots and some very nervous human soldiers on my way there. Smokescreen and Bluestreak both looked at me like I had a plague and steadily dodged my path with a wide berth. A wise choice, considering they and every other Autobot on this base were now officially on, what the humans had so graciously termed, my shit list.

Optimus didn't even look remotely surprised when I'd hacked through his codepad and came bursting into his office. That was enough of an inference to me that Prime –the big fragger– was already fully expecting my furious arrival. Jazz and Prowl jumped with a war-borne instinct to reach for their weapons up until their optics set sight on me. Their expressions laxed into one that practically screamed at me that they, too, _knew_ what this was about.

Oh, right. They signed. Of course they did.

 _"Leave."_

And like a pair of terrified sparklings evading a beating, they did. Somewhere within me, I wanted to feel triumphant for being the sole creature on this planet capable of scaring Prowl. Prime laced his digits neatly together and rested them upon his desk. He wasn't afraid of me. Part of me wished he was –it would have made me feel better if he'd shown at least some ounce of regret to this revolting proposition he was going to put me through.

"Greetings, old friend." Optimus threw me a slag-eating smile that I thought I'd only ever see on Megatron, "What seems to trouble you at this hour?"

I slammed the datapad on his desk –hard. The screen cracked.

"You know that I respect you, Optimus," I decided that starting this off with steam simmering from my seams wasn't the way to go with Prime. It never worked out for me before. He was immune to my temper –even more so than Jolt. "I would go to the ends of this cruel universe for you. Do anything you asked of me –but THIS. If _this_ is your attempt at a sick joke, Prime, I am not laughing."

"You believe this to be a joke?"

"You couldn't have possibly approved this requisition with a straight face."

Optimus rubbed at his upper lip plate, copying Lennox yet again. I knew what that meant and so did Optimus, so he put his servo back down and spilled the truth, "Perhaps not. Whether or not I had, however, is irrelevant to the fact that this is still a necessary demand."

"Necessary!" I scoffed, "Since when was this even becoming a problem?"

"For some time, old friend."

"I have not noticed."

"I doubt you have. You hardly step a pede outside of the Med Bay to see it."

Fraggit –he was attempting to corner me. And he was succeeding, because he brought up a fair point. Seeing me outside of the confines of my Med Bay was about as rare as seeing a live raphus cucullatus on this planet.

"Optimus, please."

"I am sorry, old friend. But the Major and I have been receiving far too many recent complaints of this matter for it to be overlooked."

Optimus was still smiling, but the scariest part about this whole conversation was that I could no longer tell if he was telling the truth or not. Unlike Jolt, the Prime was sinfully skilled at stating one thing and being able to conceal something else beneath it. It was of the few traits of young Orion that had never left him. An eons-long silence stretched out between us.

"Do I even want to know which fragger even started this?"

"Drift."

I was surprised. I was expecting an answer like the terror twins, one or both pairs. Bumblebee and Sam. Frag, maybe even Ironhide trying to be funny, or Jazz playing lewd rap, or Perceptor's bio-science-babble reaching confused audios. "No."

"No?"

"Drift is too sophisticated."

"A soldier threw raw calamari at him. Someone had to explain his reaction, and it went from there."

"… You're serious?"

"Yes, old friend."

"Primus help us."

"Indeed."

"I have to teach a fragging class on the sociology and anatomy of human sexuality, simply because Drift spontaneously developed a sparking's fear of some human delicacy?!"

I hoped and prayed to our high and mighty Creators that we didn't have an audience behind Optimus's door. Anyone listening to this exchange would have a grand time spreading the latest gossip of the Autobot Commander and CMO having a spout over sexual education and fried squid. I wouldn't leave the Med Bay for another century.

"No entirely spontaneous," Optimus reasoned, "I am sure you recall his… incident some time ago."

"That should not have traumatized him this much."

"I wouldn't rule it out. Have you been exposed to hentai?"

"No. Have you?"

Optimus fidgeted. My intake dropped open, "Optimus, please tell me-"

"It was not an intentional experience," he said quickly.

"I sincerely hope not."

"The older twins had gotten into my office."

I almost laughed out loud. That was just about the only thing that came out of Prime's mouth during this entire talk that I could completely believe. I could almost perfectly envision Sideswipe and Sunstreaker committing such a sick prank on him. The thought struck me with a bitter realization that irked me to the core –the worst punishment I could see Optimus giving for that is a strict lecture, and he most likely wouldn't be bothered for the next year. I found it profoundly unfair that, out of the two of us, the one who might actually kill one or both of those twins was the one who gets pranked by them the most.

"There is no one else on this Primus-forsaken base who can take care of this?"

When all else failed, I had to at least try to weasel my way out of this repulsive predicament. Optimus's disgustingly deceiving smile returned to his faceplate, "None with as such refinement as you, old friend."

I had never been any closer to punching a Prime.

"The soldier who pranked Drift better have received an adequate punishment."

"A short relieve of duty. As Major Lennox had stated, there is no harm done in a lighthearted joke."

My temper flared right back up and I poked a digit onto the datapad almost hard enough to splinter the screen, "Like FRAG there is! That soldier is the reason why my dignity will end up plummeting to nonexistence!"

"If you wish to file for something more severe to the Major for Yueming, be my guest."

"Yueming." I paused, "It was Aiko."

Optimus nodded.

That was a complete no-go. Drift would sever someone's head before he'd let her be separated from him.

"Frag." I said, "I just can't win on this."

Optimus let loose a light chuckle, "I can request that Jolt also is required to teach the session with you."

The idea of someone sharing my pain was admittedly tempting. In the end, however, Jolt signed the form along with everyone else. He would gladly help me because it wasn't at his expense. Jolt would only succeed in making it worse. I scowled and shook my head, "No. I'll do it myself."

"You will?"

"Do I have a choice?""

"I suppose not." Optimus grinned and handed me the cracked datapad. I was very tempted to take it and crush it. "I have the session scheduled for next week at 08:00 that morning. I do hope that offers you plenty of time to prepare?"

"Whatever."

I turned away without another word. That conversation was becoming more and more uncomfortable by the klik and I was more than ready to escape this insufferable prison that was Optimus's office. I came close to regretting even trying to talk –or yell, more accurately– my way out of it. I had come in knowing full well that it was a no-win situation for me when it came to verbally facing off with Optimus Prime.

"And Ratchet." Prime spoke, just when I had stepped out into the corridor.

I turned around. Optimus looked like he'd downed ten cubes of high-grade, his grin was so wide and loopy.

"What?"

"April Fools, old friend." He said through a snicker, and then all I was staring at was his office door. I looked down.

 _12:03 AM. Sunday, April 1._

Even through my enraged swearing and the explosion of pieces as the datapad met his door, I could hear Optimus's voice blend in with the rest of the base's roaring, overwhelming laughter.

* * *

 ** _1\. Optimus Prime  
_**

 ** _2\. Bumblebee_**

 ** _3\. Drift_**

 ** _4\. Crosshairs_**

 ** _5\. Hound_**

 ** _6\. Ironhide_**

 ** _7._** ** _Jolt_**

 ** _8\. Sideswipe_**

 ** _9\. Sunstreaker_**

 ** _10\. Smokescreen_**

 ** _11\. Mirage_**

 ** _12\. Prowl_**

 ** _13\. Skids_**

 ** _14\. Mudflap_**

 ** _15\. Wheeljack_**

 ** _16\. Perceptor_**

 ** _17\. Leadfoot_**

 ** _18\. Topspin_**

 ** _19\. Roadbuster_**

 ** _20\. Blurr_**

 ** _21\. B_** ** _luestreak_**

 ** _22\. Arcee_**

 ** _23\. Jazz_**

 **If this gets enough support, I might continue it with twenty-three chapters of Ratchet going ham on every Autobot who did him wrong. This story isn't my priority, though, so unle** **ss I get some good prank ideas for ol' Ratch, any updates on this will be super slow.**

 **In any case, I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)**


	2. High Voltage (Jolt)

Giddy as the N.E.S.T. base had become since the infamous joke played on Ratchet, I couldn't help but feel as though there was a second shoe ready to drop, as the humans liked to put it.

It felt like an invisible weight, one which wasn't quite heavy enough to be a bother, but was still there. A condescending feeling that pranking Ratchet this latest time would most likely not just pass by as quickly as it had the previous times. The Twins had always had it in for my mentor, but somehow everyone knew this time was different. It wasn't just Sideswipe and Sunstreaker involved this time; it was all of us.

Point was, Ratchet never let a single prank go. The Twins always paid for it. I couldn't help but wonder if the rest of us will suffer the same fate, one way or another.

That wasn't to say the joke was regretful –not in the least. I could still remember my surprise when Prime himself came to the Med Bay, with an incredibly rare glint of mischief in his optics and a datapad extended to me with nothing more than the cryptic explanation of, "I would greatly appreciate your support for this... particular requisition, Jolt."

I had read the requisition. Twice. Laughed out loud. And then I had signed, without a moment's hesitation.

 _This is completely immature of your Commander,_ said logically inclined Jolt.

 _This is completely fragging amazing_ , said youngling Jolt. Because, yes, I wasn't always as mature as I made myself out to be. I was only a handful of vorns ahead of Bumblebee. I'm allowed some leeway for immaturity, frag it.

Truly, though. Who _couldn't_ pass up the opportunity to help your highly respected, calm, regal Prime let loose and prank his CMO? It's why I appreciated humans for their flaws. Their imperfections bring out the worst in their large, biomechanical allies. It was clear in the requisition that it wasn't Prime's idea to start. I suspected it was borne from a musing conversation with Lennox in a secret meeting that inevitably turned into a mischievous scheme. The Major always had expressed a knack for exposing the Autobots to the exquisitely humorous side of humanity.

I was minutely disrupted from organizing medical files by Ratchet's return to the Med Bay. Whether it was from general formality or from a slight fear of unintentionally irritating him, I took a moment to keep myself in check, from my posture down to my greeting, "Sir."

"Jolt," he didn't even look at me. Instead, I watched my mentor's attention land on a small energon filtering project Ratchet had taken from Wheeljack since, according to him, _"I'd rather be locked in a room with Starscream than let Wheeljack risk exploding our entire fragging base. Again."_

I had the urge to feel upset. Pranks aside, Ratchet is my mentor, and it is my job to listen and learn and respect him. To some degree, perhaps I'd failed on the last part for deciding to help humiliate Ratchet. But the humor of it was (mostly) gone at this point. Ratchet was irritated at me, predictably, as he was with everyone else. Hesitantly, and truthfully nervous, I decided that I should attempt to alleviate some of the tension.

"Ratchet, sir," I said, venturing towards him but stopping at enough of a distance to dodge a wrench. If it was needed, "I'd like to, uh, apologize for my involvement in the April Fool's joke. In all honestly, I realize it was unfair to you, considering how busy you always are."

Clang. Ratchet dropped something. I noted the slight clench of armor and couldn't determine if that was something positive or negative.

Then Ratchet turned around. There wasn't an ounce of detectable emotion in his face plates, but somehow I had the notion that I was staring at a face that was better at hiding things than Soundwave. Ratchet stared. I fidgeted.

"A-again, sir, I just wanted to –"

"Stop that."

"...Sir?"

"Fragging _stop_ it," he snapped, "The 'sir's. Dear Primus, you're making me nervous just by fragging _looking_ at you."

"Oh. I... apologize?"

Ratchet sighed and rolled his optics, exasperated and even a bit dramatic " _By the Allspa_ \- just relax, Jolt? It's over, kid. I'm not going to tear your protoform out through your damn intake."

I couldn't believe what he was hearing. Were my audio receptors glitched? They must be.

Ratchet was just... letting the prank go? Unicron must have been rising again, because Ratchet did _not_ just let things go. He fumed, and snapped, and growled and hissed until enough time had passed for him to move on. I have been his apprentice long enough to see it time and time again. To see Ratchet acting so nonchalant about it was something practically unheard of.

If Ratchet could detect my inner turmoil, he said nothing about it. He waved me over, as if everything was perfectly fine. I was almost completely convinced that someone killed Ratchet and replaced him without anyone noticing. What the actual frag was happening?

"Come help me with this, would you?" he said, turning back around.

I was confused, but I complied.

Ratchet shuffled aside, allowing me access to the filtering invention. It looked nearly complete, which would greatly benefit us. N.E.S.T. had found a few energon deposits in caves around the globe, but the lack of Cybertronian tech resulted in the Autobots having to consume mostly unclean energon. Very unhealthy, as it could cause tank disruption. We'd already dealt with that enough, since the Wreckers had once decided it was a fantastic idea to have a competition on who could stand drinking contaminated energon the most.

Ratchet was furious, of course.

But one had to admit, it was amusing to watch four grown mechs purge and hack in the washracks.

I wasn't sure what Ratchet needed of me. I had little to no skill when it came to inventing or engineering. Ratchet must have noticed my confusion, because he explained.

"Fragging thing won't turn on, is all."

I caught on right away, "Oh... would you like me to jumpstart it, sir?"

"Preferably, yes."

I nodded. Ratchet guided me to the places in which he wanted me to apply a shock. I placed my digits to the appropriate places and shuttered my optics so that I could properly harness the electrical power flowing from within. Funny, how my ability would have been feared on our home planet. Here, however, mechs and femmes like me had become immeasurably valuable. We were rare. Blurr and Mirage were the only other Autobots like me.

If there was one thing I could be appreciative of when it came to my relationship with my mentor, it was Ratchet's ready acceptance to take me in despite me being an Outlier. It was something I had to hide for vorns at home, but something I finally felt he could be proud of here. I had Ratchet to thank for it. Grumpy and scary and angry as he could be, I knew I was among the very few to see a bit of a parental instinct within Ratchet, evident from his encouragement that I was unique, not different, and that my power was something special, not abominable.

With a careful precision I had mastered from a lot of practice, I shocked the machine with what I deemed was the appropriate amount of voltage. It stuttered, sparked, and then hummed to life.

Ratchet gripped my shoulder plate in silent thanks. For a moment I felt that the initial tension in the Med Bay was finally gone.

"Thank you, Jolt."

I smiled, "You're welcome, sir."

* * *

I caught Ratchet fiddling with our Med Bay codepad a day later.

I wasn't sure what to make of it. Ratchet was not generally the mech on base with the technical touch. But I stood there quietly while I watched my mentor manipulate the wiring behind the codepad with a vigor that was entirely odd to see in the CMO.

"Ahem... sir?"

Ratchet did something he rarely did.

He jumped.

Startling Ratchet was rare. And dangerous. Last time it happened, Mirage had gotten a wrench lodged in a very uncomfortable place.

"Jolt!" he said, as if he somehow hadn't been expecting me. He slapped the codepad shut and peered down at me.

"Apologies, sir, but... _what_ are you doing?"

"Fixing the codepad," he said a little quickly, "You know how it malfunctions sometimes."

No, I didn't. The codepad never had any issues before as far as I knew.

"Oh," I said, "Okay."

I decided not to give Ratchet's unusual antic a second thought.

If only I had.

* * *

"I've got to go find Major Lennox," Ratchet told me, a datapad in hand.

I looked up from organizing some medical tools, "Very well, sir."

"I'll be back," he walked to the door. Stopped. He looked back at me, with a peculiar expression that looked entirely foreign on him, "Test run the energon filter for me, will you? I've been meaning to do it-"

I nodded, "I can do that for you, sir."

Ratchet nodded, still upholding that somewhat amused expression, and then left the Med Bay. I finished my task at hand before I turned my attention to the energon filter. With careful servos I tried turning it on -only for the device to do nothing.

I hesitated for a moment, then tried another few times to get it to work. When it still refused to work, I sighed and decided on starting the filter in a different way.

With a careful measure of charge, I touched the device and lit it up with a mild current. It sparked, then came to life in a low hum. I internally mused that it would definitely require some more tinkering, but at least I had gotten it to work. I was just about to notify Ratchet when the low hum of the filter steadily began to grow louder. I stared at it, warily.

The device exploded.

I had to duck to avoid losing my optics to a sharp scrap of material. Lowering my arms, I was greeted with the sight of a steaming, cackling pile of meal and wires that would have been our energon filter.

I gaped for a very long time. It took a considerable amount of willpower for me to ping my mentor.

::Ratchet, sir? I... have a situation.::

A sigh, ::What is it, Jolt.::

::I attempted to... start the energon filter. It would not turn on normally so I tried to jumpstart it again...::

::And?::

::And... it exploded.::

Ratchet was quiet for an agonizing minute.

I shrank, ::Ratchet, sir, I'm so sorry –::

::How much fragging voltage did you use, Jolt?!::

::N-not near enough to cause an explosion, sir, I swear!::

Ratchet grew quiet again, like he was contemplating how much trouble he'd get into for strangling his apprentice.

For a moment, I wondered how much trouble I'd get into for attempting to flee the base.

::Well,:: Ratchet's voice was positively dripping with sarcastic ridicule, ::Looks like we're going to have to file a report for a destroyed energon filter that –might I add– took Wheeljack months to develop. Since you're _so_ exceptional at forwarding messages, Jolt, would you be so kind as to fill that out for me?::

I had to wince. Ratchet was making a jab at me so readily handing his mentor the embarrassing requisition not too long ago. I knew not to take his remark personal –Ratchet was still bitter about it and I didn't have it in me to fault him for it. Nearly the entire base had pitched in against Ratchet that night, after all.

::Of course, sir,:: I answered, with a respectful nod. ::I will do that...::

Ratchet hummed on the other line. I wasn't sure what it was, but he sounded strangely thoughtful for an angry CMO whose project I'd just destroyed.

I truly was not looking forward to the conference on this mess. The last time I had to attend an A&HR meeting was when I'd accidentally electrocuted everyone in the washracks. As it would seem, trying to jump start the shower head when it wasn't working was less of a problem solver and more of an opportunity for Morshower to yell at me like I was an incompetent youngling.

In short, if Morshower requested you, you were in some _deep_ slag. He was about as dreadful to face as Megatron.

I had a hunch that Ratchet knew that this was his chance to return the humiliation he'd suffered prior. For a moment I just stood there, dreading the inevitable demise of my dignity that usually came with walking into an A&HR meeting whenever Morshower was involved.

That was generally how it went. All mishaps were to be recorded and forwarded to our superiors, wherein they'd determine whether or not they want to address it or leave it up to the base commanders to discipline the Autobots and humans involved. Morshower was graced with the presence of a naughty Autobot usually when it was something of a more serious incident.

Such as me accidentally frying everyone in the washracks.

Or the Twins painting Ironhide pink in his recharge.

Or Jazz blasting rap on the speakers.

Smokescreen cannonballing into the ocean.

Mirage escaping his time in the brig.

You get the idea.

Silently, I decided I should take initiative.

::Jolt to Prime.::

It took a moment, but the wary tone in Prime's internal voice when he answered made me realize he was probably wondering if he'd survive Day 1 after the prank.

::This is Prime. What have you wished to contact me about, Jolt?::

Something told me he already knew I was in trouble.

::Ah, well... I wanted to forewarn you that I will be bringing a file to you regarding the... unfortunate malfunction of our energon filtering project.::

::It malfunctioned?::

::Yes, sir.::

::How so?::

Fraggit. Of course he had to ask.

::I... exploded it, sir.::

Silence. I was briefly distracted by the destroyed filter sparking threateningly. I kept myself braced for any residual and potentially devastating malfunctions, considering that it was Wheeljack's invention. In that time, Prime had formulated a response.

::I see. Thank you for telling me, Jolt. I will await your delivery of the file.::

I paused. ::You aren't upset at me, sir?::

::Certainly not. I am well aware that accidents happen, young one. We have suffered losses far worse than an energon filter. And... in all honesty, I simply cannot fault you for something that came from Wheeljack's lab.::

I couldn't help myself. I laughed. ::Thank you, Prime. Ratchet had not taken the information quite as well.::

::As I would expect. I don't believe Ratchet is willing to take any information with a positive attitude, as of late...:: Prime's internal voice faltered. It made me realize that as amusing as the prank must have been for him, our leader still retained his humbleness in the form of slight guilt that he'd all but ruined our CMO's mood for the next year. Or two.

It took half a joor, but I'd filled out a datapad detailing the incident and was on my way to my leader's office when I came across a rather arduous predicament. One which brought forth an instant level of suspicion the more I pounded on the codepad. I was stuck. In the Med Bay.

I wasn't sure which was worse; that I was locked in, or Ratchet was locked out. My mentor being unable to find solace in his beloved Med Bay was about as comparable to letting an angry Predacon loose to the rest of the base. Not a necessarily good time for anyone.

But a certain and rather incredulous memory drove me to ping Ratchet, this time with less apprehension and more subtle annoyance. ::Ratchet, sir.::

::Yes, Jolt?:: he responded in a nearly sing-song tone. At this point I was 89.09% sure he was expecting this.

::...The Med Bay codepad is broken.::

::Oh. That's a shame.::

::Sir, I can't get out...::

::Huh. You know, I could have _sworn_ I fixed the damn thing.:: Ratchet rattled on, as if my situation was simply muted to him entirely. I could feel my digits digging into the datapad I was holding as it became abundantly clear what exactly was going on.

::You weren't fixing the codepad that day, were you, sir?::

Ratchet's cackle could have put Starscream to shame.

::Sir, please! If you don't help me get out, I can't-::

::Sorry, kiddo. Kind of busy right now.::

::Doing what, laughing at me through the camera feed with Lennox?::

::Mm. Tempting, but no.:: Ratchet is evidently far too amused with the situation to mind my flare of attitude. I was getting so frustrated that I could feel sparks escaping my digits. I'd never fried a datapad before but I was getting awfully close.

::Where are you, then?::

::Oh, you know, tinkering with the energon filter with Wheeljack. Don't worry, we've gotten it to start up properly.:: If that was truly where he was, I could just see Wheeljack's look of confusion. Ratchet was probably grinning like a Sharkticon. I gave the smoking pieces on the table behind me a nasty leer.

A dud. _A dud_. Of fragging course.

::Ratchet, you do realize I'd already contacted Prime and told him the filter was broken.::

::Sounds like something you should go and fix.::

::I can't get out!::

::Sure you can. I'm sure a little _jumpstart_ will do the trick.:: I didn't like the way he emphasized that word. Ratchet knew that my luck with jumpstarting anything was considerably low, if past experience was something to go by.

I ran my servo over my face. ::I'm not going to do that, sir.::

::Then I guess you'll be staying in there until I deem you've learned your lesson on signing things you shouldn't sign.::

Ah, yes. There it was. As I'd so adamantly claimed before, Ratchet never let a prank go. Ever. I should have seen this coming. For a fleeting moment I quickly realized if even I wasn't safe from Ratchet's wrath, then absolutely no one was.

::I heard Diego Garcia's beaches are quite nice.::

::Ratchet, don't do this to me.::

::I think I'll head there.::

::Sir, I'm begging you-::

He cut the link. I fried the datapad.

Jumpstart, huh? I tossed the now useless datapad to the side and harnessed a small charge to my left servo. Just once. Once shouldn't hurt. I hesitated only for a short moment before I vented and touched the codepad. It sparked in response, giving me the impression that, for once, my electricity made something work.

Then the lights went out. My spark dropped as I stood there in darkness.

Of course, I should have expected that Ratchet did some rewiring, too. I spent a considerable amount of time pacing in the dark and unsuccessfully contacting a mentor who's deliberately ignoring me, when I recieved an unexpected ping from someone else.

::...Sideswipe?::

::Dude.:: Sideswipe said. ::You're so fragged.::

::What?::

::Good luck with Morshower on this one, bro.:: He laughed, and then he disconnected.

My next ping was from Prime. I was genuinely afraid to answer him.

::Prime, sir?::

::Jolt...:: My leader paused, like he was scrabbling for an easy way to tell me that I was going to die in a cycle or so. Which was entirely possible, if I really was seeing Morshower again. ::Have you... utilized your electrical abilities recently?::

::Honestly, sir, more than I'm probably supposed to.::

::So I've been made aware... as well as everyone else on this base.::

I hesitated, confused. ::Come again, sir?::

::We will have to discuss your use of your power, young one. This... is getting out of hand.::

::I'm afraid I don't understand, sir. I... did accidentally short out the Med Bay, but-::

Optimus's next statement had me realizing just how much trouble I was about to be in.

::Jolt... you did not just short out the Med Bay. You shorted out the entire base.::


End file.
